A Bird in the Hand
by MrTicklepaws
Summary: Canon fic for DesdemonaKakalose's Up In Smoke/Creeping Messiah Complex postapocaverse. Everyone makes a delightful new friend, except Worth. Worth is a jerk. She helped me rp the bit with the blow up doll. Now you /really/ want to read this, right?


Generally speaking, Worth was just along for the ride. There was nothing left for him where he'd been living just a few months earlier. The few he felt he could trust were stuffed in an RV, traveling from one decimated part of America to the next. He had initially thought it would be better than sitting around waiting to go down in the flames of the city or starving in the concrete jungle.

He hadn't, however, thought it would be better to starve in an RV stuffed with a jabbering magician, a one fanged faggot vamp, and some reanimated bloke with a penchant for romance novels.

So when a small dark shape bounced off of the windshield of the motor home and Hanna had insisted that Conrad stop the vehicle, Worth assumed he knew what was going on. He headed outside and picked up the animal, a bird, a sparrow. Tiny little thing flopping uselessly in his hand, reminding him a bit of the time his sister's goldfish had decided to commit suicide by leaping to its suffocating death outside of its tank. There wouldn't be much meat on the bones, but, fuck, it would be something, and he could feel his stomach grinding against itself in anticipation of his first meal in two days.

"No no no no no! Wait wait wait!" Hanna was there suddenly, running hard, stumbling over his own feet. "Don't!"

"Don't what?" He could feel the sparrow's heartbeat, a rapid staccato as it squirmed and stared at him.

"Don't kill it!"

"Are ya fuckin' kiddin' me?" Turning, Worth walked over to the red head, the two standing in the bright headlights of the camper.

Hanna's glasses gleamed bright in the light. "No, dude, for serious. We hit it. We need to try and fix it. Karma."

"Or we eat it. We've been helpin' people all up an' down this fuckin' country fer months. We ran outta food an' none a th' towns 'round here'll even let us in ta try an' trade. Ya wanna talk karma?" He wiggled the bird in his hand by Hanna's face. "How 'bout food fallin' from th' skies?"

"Quit shaking it! It didn't fall from the skies. We hit it. It's different. Just. Please? I-I want to fix it."

Worth knew Hanna didn't mean he wanted to fix the bird. Well, he did, yes, but he really wanted to fix everything, anything he might be even vaguely responsible for, he wanted to fix it. Snorting, the doctor walked back into the RV. "Someone get a box or somethin'. Ain't havin' this stupid thing hoppin' all 'round in here."

"Gnee!" Oversized feet threw Hanna back into the camper behind Worth and into the back, searching for a box.

"What is it?" The vampire was turned in the driver's seat, peering over the arm rest.

"Annoyin'," was the response as Worth sank down in the small dining area. Hanna dropped a small box infront of him, the former home of a pair of high heeled shoes that Conrad didn't seem too keen on wearing, despite Worth's repeated requests. He'd never considered stilettos to be dangerous until Conrad had a pair in his hands. He dropped the bird into the box and looked over at Hanna, spotting luminescent blue eyes looking at the doctor hopefully. "Aw, fuck, what now?"

"Well uh...since you're our medicine man, can you you know, medicine it up? Fixy Mcfixersons?"

He stared for awhile. It was interesting. If you stare at a person long enough, keeping quiet, they'll start volunteering information left and right. Usually, anyway. People couldn't take silence. They had to fill it, even if it meant sharing things they didn't want you to know. But Hanna wasn't falling for it; he'd been victim to the Stare O' Silence as he called it one too many times. Grunting, he gave in first. "Ain't a vet, Hanna."

"No, but, c'mon. I will buy you a drink."

"Yeahsure. Bet ya will. Get Fagula's glasses an' my bag an' I'll take a look."

"Gnee! Done!"

"Wh-what?" Conrad was instantly batting away Hanna's tiny, hopeful hands. "Why the fuck do you need my, stop! I need these to see!"

"So do I. Figure yer blind enough I kin use 'em as magnifiers."

"It's just for like a totally little bit of time, and for a completely rad cause. You won't even miss them!" Pink verses white, the sissiest of hand slapping sissy fights Worth had ever seen was going on a mere two feet ahead of him. He smiled, propping his chin in hand on the table next to the sparrow's box while he watched. Maybe they should hit small animals more often if it meant entertainment like this.

"Look, be, Hanna! Be fucking reasonable! I need these to see! Who's going to drive if I can't see?" Conrad was leaning back, trying to keep his head out of Hanna's range. It looked like the ginger was on the verge of leaping forward.

"Uh...Me?"

"Riiiiiight. And how many times did you say you failed your driver's test?"

"That was just you know, the parallel parking portion. Uh, not the actual driving portion. And I passed the written test every time!"

"If I may?" Everyone looked over to the green man who had been sitting in silent vigil in the passenger's seat. "Hanna? Perhaps you should get Worth's bag from the back."

"Okay, yeah, I can totally do that." Giving up on Conrad's glasses, Hanna skittered into the back.

The vampire smirked in triumph, then squawked in indignation as a pair of dusty olive fingers plucked his glasses from his face.

"My apologies, Conrad. I thought this might speed up the process. I assume you have legitimate need for these?" The stylish glasses were offered to Worth, who waved them away.

"Give 'em back ta th' bat. Don't want Hanna drivin' us inta a ditch." Besides, Conrad's glasses were for distance. Taking them from him didn't accomplish anything past pissing him off.

Worn leather landed by Worth's feet and Hanna slid into the small breakfast bench seat beside the doctor to closely watch him as he worked. He hunched into a familiar position while the camper rumbled around him, lurching back to life and speeding down the dark highway. "Let's take a look. Better not bite me, ya li'l fucktard. Tryin' ta help ya here." The bird was staring at him, head tilting, like a dog trying to figure out what was being said.

Delicately his fingers ran over the feathers, scooping the sparrow up and onto its back. It was just staring at him, head adjusting to different angles as it was slowly turned around. There was no struggle, its heartbeat no longer racing. Everything seemed to be okay from what Worth could tell, save for a broken nail that had already stopped bleeding and what was clearly a neatly snapped wing. He reached into his bag, pulling out a roll of gauze. "Don't like wastin' this on a fuckin' bird, Hanna."

"It's not a waste. It's a good deed."

"Uh huh. Good deeds usually wind up with me dodgin' bullets." Fingers carefully pressed the broken wing into a normal tucked position before he wrapped with sure, practiced movements. He was wary not to wrap too tightly around the chest lest he obstruct the bird's breathing, keeping the binding ahead of the feet. Satisfied, he secured the gauze and set the sparrow back down in the box. It fluttered and flopped, stumbling to its feet and using the uninjured wing to help support itself, but the broken one looked to be immobilized. He squinted at the bird, finger tapping on the tabletop.

Beside him, Hanna was beaming. "Awesome, bro! Thanks! I owe you a drink for serious."

"Eeh. Somethin's wrong with it."

"Huh? It looks boss to me. You want to rewrap it or something?"

"Th' bird. It ain't normal."

"Really? I mean, it looks normal. Does it have like," the runemaster adjusted his glasses, leaning in close, "a growth or something?"

"Ya notice how it was when I worked on it? Never tried ta bite, never fussed. Jus' sat there 'n' stared at me."

"It was probably in shock," Conrad supplied from the driver's seat. "Maybe from the way you smell."

"Birds do not have a well-developed sense of smell," the zombie stated.

A scoff from the driver. "You don't need a well-developed one to smell Worth."

"Don't need one ta smell anyone these days, sweetheart." That bird was still staring at him. Hanna was busy looking for something to put in the box to keep the bird comfortable. Worth stared back as the RV rocketed ahead and hopefully towards a town that would be willing to let them in. "Ya got a reprieve right now, but don't think I won't eat ya soon's Hanna loses interest in ya."

He tapped the beak once and was rewarded by a quick peck on his finger.

"Connie. I'm bleedin'. Come suck it 'n' make it better."

Even with a competent and licensed driver behind the wheel, the camper may or may not have nearly swerved into a ditch.

Sleeping through the day was a neat trick that Worth had learned a long time ago. It was second nature, really. All the fun shit happened when the sun went down and the neon buzzed to life. But the thing with sleeping, sleeping anywhere at any time, really, was that you needed your subconscious to be comfortable. It wasn't that you needed a bed, though, hey, those weren't bad, and you didn't need blankets or fuck, even a roof over your head. The base instincts roaming around in the back of your head had to feel like everything was cool. It had to be satisfied that its own personal little checklist of needs had been met.

Worth's needs had not been met, as he awoke to a dark room, lying on his side with a pillow under his head and a relatively nice quilt covering himself and the undead idiot who's forehead was tucked between Worth's shoulderblades.

He lurched out of the bed, covering Conrad completely before cracking the door open as little as possible to enter the living area of the RV. His nemesis awaited there, in a perky little beam of sunlight, chirp, chirp, chirping its stupid fucking way onto Worth's "shit I want to punch" list. He bent, putting his face close to the box with the tittering bird and glared for all he was worth. "Shut. Th' fuck. Up."

The bird stared back at him, gave a little unbalanced hop, and, Worth could swear the singing was louder.

Ignoring the fact that the zombie was quietly sitting below the window, and likely using the light from the window to read, Worth yanked the thick curtains closed. It seemed to momentarily confuse the bird, but soon the sparrow was chirping in an even more annoying and less rhythmic pattern. "Th' fuck's th' matter wit' ya? Ain't no light! Go th' fuck ta sleep! Shut up!"

"Nngguh? Huh?" Hanna looked down from the overhead sleeping space. It was filling up with odds and ends and soon would be relegated to storage only. The doctor wasn't sure where the red head would sleep once it filled up. He would probably use it as an excuse to not sleep. "Dude, chill. Tryin' to get some sleep."

"Fuckin' thing keeps twitterin'. Can't sleep with all th' racket."

From his current and much darker location, the zombie flipped a page and spoke. "I find it soothing."

"Yeah, it's cheerful. Quit being a grumpy gus." Giving a thumbs up, Hanna's head disappeared. "You keep rockin' those sweet tunes, my fine, feathered friend!"

Finding a lack of support for his cause, Worth pulled off his shirt and dropped it over the top of the box. The chirps stopped and he retreated to the back to try and get some rest.

Hours later, Worth reemerged, bleary eyed and hungry, to find the curtains wide open to a starry night and Hanna offering water to the bird via a spoon. With a grunt, the doctor plopped down in the booth beside the ginger. "Hope ya get salmonella."

"Fff well you're a ray of sunshine today. Hey, look. So I was going to keep this for trading but uh...I think nomming is kinda more important right now. So," Smiling, resting the near empty spoon on the small table, he stood on the cushions to reach up into the sleeping bunk over the front seats. A heavy bag slowly made its way forward. It slipped and then crumpled, falling over one of Hanna's broad shoulders and he grinned triumphantly. "Popcorn night! I mean, okay, not really my idea so much as Duncan MacLeod's because we were talking about movies and how boss they were and popcorn and the popcorn trick might have come up in conversation and uh have you done that, 'cause, like, if anyone would, I'd think it would be you, but maybe I don't really want to know but I do but I don't but anyway so Duncan was all "We have corn" and I was all "Fuck yeah, popcorn night!" So. Yeah. Popcorn night!"

"Eeeh, thing 'bout th' popcorn trick-"

"Popcorn trick?" Conrad wandered out of the back room, running hands through his hair to smooth it into a semblance of a style. It was a losing battle, but Conrad was a stubborn dick. "Do I even want to know?"

Worth decided it would be an excellent idea to explain to Conrad, and proceeded to do so in a matter of fact voice. "It's when yer out with a girl in th' movies an' ya buy a box a popcorn. Gotta be a box with th' tabs that come tagether, not one a those tubs with a solid bottom. Make out with her a bit, yannow, get th' blood flowin'. Then when she's watchin' th' flick ya unzip yer pants, now this only works if ya wear boxers or freeball like me. An' so ya take yer-"

Fingers pinched the bridge of Conrad's nose. "Ugh, enough! Enough! Thank you for the visual. I may never sleep again."

"Truly. You are a font of knowledge of all things frowned upon by polite society." The zombie took the bag of corn kernels from Hanna, moving them to sit on the counter in the tiny kitchenette.

Thin brows rose appreciatively. "An' I think yer finally developin' a sense a humor. Congratufuckin' lations, mate."

"Uhhhh...so once we get going," Hanna cleared his throat, cheeks cherry, "we can start making popcorn and eat it from bowls with solid bottoms."

"Yannow what's more satisfyin'? Meat." Worth looked to the bird with a smirk. Suddenly, his face fell, eyebrows lowering to sit heavy across his deep set eyes. "Where th' fuck's my shirt?"

"Huhwha-ooooooooh. Oh. Is that what was in there?" Sheepishly, Hanna scooted on the bench seat, one hand tugging the bird's box closer to him.

Worth didn't like where this was headed. "Yeah, it was on top ta shut th' thing up."

"Ummmmmmmmm well you see, we still have the shirt, but I don't know if you'll want it. Er, at least, not before we find a good place to do some scrubbing. It uh...well...we put it in the shower if you want to see, but uh, I don't know that it's a good idea."

"Fer fuck's-move, fatass," standing, pushing Conrad out of the way, Worth moved to the cramped bathroom area, "fuck's sake, a bloke tries ta get some shut eye an'..." He stared at the shirt. Or, more accurately, the remnants of the shirt. He had no idea a single bird could shit that much in its lifetime, let alone a few hours. It had somehow magically also developed an ability to shred shit like a motherfucker. Scowling, he stormed up to the box now cradled protectively in Hanna's arms. "S'thass how it is, issit? Oh it's on now, ya li'l fuck."

"Worth. I know, you're terribly brain damaged," Conrad was beside him, cleaning his glasses on the fabric of his shirt, "so I'll try to keep this simple." Crimson eyes swiveled as the vampire smirked. "It's a fucking bird. It doesn't understand what you're saying or what it's doing."

His upper lip curled. "Naw, it knows. An' I know it knows."

"Riiiiiiiight. Well." Conrad patted Worth's shoulder. "Good luck on defeating the most insidious and heinous of beasts."

"Naw, yer ma's already good 'n' gone."

He wasn't too upset when Conrad knocked him out. He had kind of deserved it.

When he came to, with the side of his head a pulsing, splitting headache, he heard it again. That goddamned chirping. He also smelled food, though, and that was more important for the time being.

He pulled himself up and into the small breakfast nook, throwing a handful of popcorn down his gullet immediately. He chewed, but only enough to make it easier to swallow. There had been times when he had gone longer without eating, but he had drugs then to keep him solidly distracted from hunger pains and the weakness of muscle that made themselves known to a sober mind.

Sitting, eating, he noted the shoebox was empty. "Th' fuck'd it go off ta?"

Hanna finished his mouthful of popcorn, gesturing towards the front of the RV. "He's keeping Connie and Cecil company."

Grunting, taking another handful of popcorn, Worth stepped out and around the small table to lean in and peer over Conrad's shoulder. Sure enough, with a red string around its ankle, the bird was hopping and preening, looking out the windshield. Worth chewed on his popcorn. The bird stared. "How long till he takes a shit on Conrad. Cold an' white enough; it'll pro'lly mistake ya fer a statue."

"Oh, I doubt that," was the reply, "besides the fact that he unleashed hell all over your shirt, I think he and I have an understanding. Isn't that right?"

The bird cocked its head, bouncing closer to the vampire.

Smiling, Conrad plucked a piece of corn from his pocket and offered it to the sparrow, who quickly snatched the kernel and began eating. "See?"

"I see you offerin' bribes while it's bouncin' 'round like Hanna on cotton candy." He leaned in close, breath humid against Conrad's ear. "I ain't impressed with yer bird whisperin' skills."

"And I'm not impressed with your breath."

"I am! He totally took me up on chewing twigs! What'd you say it's called again, Orwell?"

"Birching. It is best to use an aromatic tree, such as cinnamon, if possible."

The RV continued to rocket down the highway. Worth and the bird continued their staring match.

"Birching? You chew on, wait, wait, my God, this is amazing," Conrad's entire face lit up as if someone had just brought him a surprise birthday cake. "You're telling me that you put wood in your mouth? My fucking God I don't even know where to begin with the gay jokes. Maybe you can start me off, Worth, since you're so good at them."

"Ffffffff, man, you are having a lousy day, bro," Hanna offered helpfully, popcorn crunching beneath his molars.

Conrad was obviously having too much fun as his mouth continued to spew ridiculous questions. "So do you prefer them big or small? Dark or light? Hard and mature or young and pliable?"

"Right, 'nough a that," he pinched the skin of Conrad's arm, twisting sharply.

"Ow! Fuck!"

"Hey he uh...he's kinda driving, dude."

"Yep. Guess he can't really fight back then, can he?"

"Godfuckingdamnit, Worth," Hands were vises on the wheel, Conrad's shoulders hunched, teeth bared as he focused all his rage into a focused stare out into the night.

"Aww, now, jus' wanned ta stop ya so I could answer yer questions, Connie." Leaning in closer, the doctor slid an arm over Conrad's opposite shoulder, placing his mouth by the vampire's ear again. "I like 'em light, real light. Size don't matter, sweetheart, s'don't get all concerned 'bout not measurin' up. They say more'n a handful's a waste." He was strongly tempted to leave a wet kiss to the vampire's jawline, but even he valued his life enough to know better than to risk that. But, still, an opportunity like this wasn't to be wasted. Both hands cupped Conrad's pectorals, giving a light squeeze. "Don't mind that yer still in a trainin' bra, darlin'. 'S kinna cute."

Beneath the doctor's spidery fingers, Conrad began to vibrate. "Hanna," he said calmly, "Can vampires survive high speed crashes?"

"Uhhhhhhh yeahsure. Like, as long as there isn't any fire, you're good."

"Good. Worth?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"You're not wearing a seatbelt, are you? How thick do you think the windshield is?"

"Mmm," he considered it, stubbled cheek scratching against Conrad's smooth skin, "pro'lly decent thickness. Older model, s' none a that safety glass bullshit goin' on."

"I am putting my foot on the brake in three seconds. Very, _very_ hard. If you would prefer to not go flying through it and out onto the asphalt, I would recommend-"

"What about yer be-eff-eff scratchin' th' fuck outta th' dash, hmm?"

Conrad's brows lowered as his gaze flicked over to the bird. Having finished its corn, its full attention was back on them, head ticking back and forth. "...Perhaps he can peck your eyes out as you lie covered in roadrash."

"Kinky," having distracted Conrad enough with his reply, Worth released him and headed back to rejoin Hanna and shove more popcorn in his mouth. It certainly wasn't the worst meal he'd had, though also not the best. No one quite knew what the fuck they were doing now that canned goods had run out.

They better figure it out fast, though; the days had started growing shorter weeks ago, and in an attempt to avoid the cold as long as possible, the group had been traveling along the southern states. But even so, fall had arrived, and with it, a chill in the mornings giving a whispered promise within the skittering, falling leaves of hard and cold times ahead. Blunt nails scrabbled against the bottom of the plastic bowl as Worth neared the end of the popcorn. He elbowed Hanna, tipping the bowl up, rattling the last bits of popcorn as he stared at the red head.

"Oh, no, I'm cool. I had a bunch before you came to. You finish it." He smiled, looking better than he had in quite some time. Worth decided he'd buy the lie rather than press the issue and finished off the last bits of popcorn.

The small man rose and moved to the front of the RV, carefully picking up the sparrow. "Is it cool if I take this dude for a bit, Con-my-man?"

"He's not mine. You do what you want." Worth was fairly certain Conrad sounded put out, but that was also his default setting.

"Cool. C'mon, little man." He headed to the back, to the area where Worth slept.

"OI! Th' fuck ya doin'? If he shits , it better not be on my side a th' bed. Ya hear me, flyin' rat?"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Conrad's hands tightened on the steering wheel as his body leaned forward, "I don't have those sorts of bodily functions!"

"I believe he meant the bird, Conrad."

"Ya better not shit th' bed either, Connie." Worth wasn't paying full attention, busy looking at the closed bedroom door. Hanna shutting a door was worrying enough, but the faint blue and green lights illuminating the edges of the door had him suspicious that Hanna was doing something stupid. Of course, Hanna lived to do stupid things, so, nothing new there. "Since yer such good mates with birdie, mebbe ya kin ask 'im fer flyin' lessons."

"Maybe I can feed him more and leave your whiskey in his box."

The door opened and Hanna exited the bedroom, bird in hand, face pale. He was wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Sitting beside the doctor, he set the bird back in its box and leaned back, shutting his eyes. Worth looked at the bird and shook his head. A rune pattern was scrawled, maroon soaked deep into the gauze bandage.

"Couldn't use a marker, then?"

"Not for healing spells. Life for life, energy for energy, health for health."

"Well then this thing's fucked, ain't it?"

Eyes still closed, Hanna chuckled.

The RV slowed and pulled up to a guarded gate around two in the morning. According to the map they were in Sweetwater, Texas. As far as Worth was concerned, the cowboy hats, shot guns, and boots were enough to confirm it. But Hanna, of course, leaned over Conrad's lap and rolled down the window to stick his head out and shout "Hey! Is this Sweetwater?"

The pointing of guns and a quickly clipped "state your business" only set him to increased excitement and he practically crawled into Conrad's lap to stick his head out farther. Conrad, for his part, was leaning as far back in his seat as possible.

"Trading! We have gas!"

"Don't need it."

The excitement faltered. "Oh. Damn. You guys have windpower, too?"

"Yep." The man spoke, gun trained on Hanna's face while the woman focused her gun on one of the vehicle's front tires. "One of the biggest in the state. We also have guns, people who know how to use them, and a secure fenceline. So if gas is all you have, I'm afraid you'll just have to look elsewhere." Worth noted that the two guards at the gate were standing relaxed, voices raised only enough to make themselves heard; efficient and self-assured. They weren't bluffing.

"Great fuckin' plan, Hanna," he grumbled, thin arms crossing. "Of all th' places ta take us, not only issit Texas, but ya take us ta all of Don Quixote's hangouts."

"Hey, I don't really have like, a schematic of windpower across the USA, okay?" He sighed, once, and then changed his tactics. "We have a doctor with us. And I know some of the more arcane arts."

The two glanced at each other before the woman replied. "What else?"

"Uh, jeez, just corn, really, unless you're looking for some magical type of woods and grasses, we have some of that, but it's super rare so we'd have to ask for something big in return and-"

"Not interested," she stated.

"Look, we uh, we don't have much. Everyone wants gas elsewhere. I can teach you how to purify water, the magic for that is really simple and-"

"Not," her eyes narrowed and her finger rested lightly on the trigger, "interested."

"We're kinda hungry," Hanna admitted, eyes downcast. "We ran out of food a few days ago, and we were rationing a week before that. Before that we gave like, half our cans to a group out by Lake Ponchatrain."

Worth remembered that clearly, and it hadn't just been most of the food, it had been a good portion of tobacco, too. It had been a group of seven scraggly children, siblings, led by a boy who couldn't have been more than fifteen living in a small resort motel. He had insisted they take them in, even though half were already coughing. They had all been fosterchildren under the care of the elderly man and woman running the motel complex. The man and woman had stopped smoking when the world dissolved around them in an effort to make sure they could live longer and take care of the children.

Clearly, things hadn't quite worked out as they'd hoped. Life had one hell of a dickish sense of humor.

He also remembered Hanna banning him from trying to gather seafood from the lake, one of the few times he'd really seen the younger man get serious. And he had been really fucking serious. They had tried to convince the boy to bring everyone with them, let them take the children to another town and barter for their entrance. He had staunchly refused; their home was where they were and most of the children were too sick to travel. His eyes were shot blue with veins, fireworks of immunity throughout sclera. But his were the only ones like that.

Worth still thought it would have been kinder to give them each a bullet than food and a wish for good luck.

"Heh, I guess we were planning too far ahead stockpiling clothes for winter. We should have just used the space for more cans. Do you know any place where we might be able to trade?"

"Maybe," the man replied, cautiously. "What kinda clothes ya got?"

"Oh, just random stuff. Some coats and jackets and socks and stuff. Dude, we have socks coming out our ears. No real matches, you know, there's always the left sock that disappears in a wormhole-"

The guns lowered a fraction. "We could use some clothes."

"I would totally love to give you some clothes! Um, for some food, maybe?"

"Okay," the man began to walk around the RV, gun still at the ready. "I need to make sure it's just the three of you before I'm lettin' you in."

"Four of us! Er, I mean, there's a guy in the back! Oh, and a bird! Birds are cool, right?"

The man opened the door and immediately trained his gun on Worth who wiggled his fingers at him with a forced smile. He searched through the RV quickly, and then exited the vehicle, nodding to the woman. They lowered their guns and she approached the driver's window. "Okay. Drive slow up the road, then turn right on West Arizona. Left on Sam Houston. You'll come upon a group when you reach the church, Immaculate Heart. Tell them Christy gave you the go ahead and you have clothes to trade. You should be okay."

"Okay! Thanks, Christy! Onward ho, Connie!"

"The moment you stop roaming around in my lap like a neurotic Chihuahua, I will. Gladly."

The group at the church were just as happy to see people as Christy and her companion at the gate had been. While the line about being surrounded by fencing turned out to be a bluff, the information about everyone being armed was not. Hanna seemed unaware of the suspicious looks as he grabbed clothes left and right, shifting boxes, moving unsorted messes from one part of the RV to another. As it turned out, they had far less than Hanna had originally thought and he smiled sheepishly to the men with guns as he opened the door, holding up mismatched socks. "Uh, Christy sent us for trade?"

Conrad stayed holed up in the camper, finding the lightly cross-adorned building to make his teeth ache. After they parked across from the church and Conrad locked himself away in the back, Hanna, Worth, and the zombie walked inside the building, escorted by Father Munoz. They would be given breakfast and dinner, which Worth and Hanna were more than happy to eat, in exchange for the socks and five shirts. Breakfast would be at seven and dinner at six. That was fine, too. They'd be sleeping through the day, anyway.

"So, Father," Hanna hedged between mouthfuls of biscuits and thick, sausage gravy, "how did you end up with so many survivors?"

The man smiled, sitting in a plastic folding chair, working on his own breakfast with a little less gusto. "I like to think the lord helped, but if we're going to be a bit less spiritual, people come to the church when they're ill. They're looking for sanctuary, safety, reassurance that everything will be okay. I do what I can. I did notice that those who spent time near the censer seemed to perk up a bit. I ordered in extra incense, and kept them burning. Eventually we realized there was something in the smoke, and, well," he chuckled, taking a sip of water, "all those laws against smoking in public places are rather a moot point now, aren't they?"

Worth grunted around a mouthful. Christ he had missed meat. Even in small portions where they were more flavoring than main attraction, it was brightening his mood considerably. Beans worked for much needed protein, but they wore out their welcome quickly; especially when there was only one, tiny, and nonfunctioning bathroom on an RV shared by three men and a little lady. "Lotsa people but everyone looks well-fed. How ya keepin' up with that?"

"Ah, we are fortunate here. The wind farm requires a large amount of open land. You can't have windmills in cities; the buildings will obstruct the flow of wind. Wide spaces work. So, you farm the land and keep animals. People in this area know how to raise food and most know how to preserve it. And with the windmills constantly turning, well," he smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges as a hand gestured to the room, "we also have plenty of energy for electricity. We have heat, we have air conditioning, we can even watch movies and play video games. No internet, though. Pity. I did enjoy watching YouTube. Did you ever see the video of the cat that barks like a dog?"

"More of a two girls, one cup kinda guy."

Over the rim of his cup, Hanna gave a glare to Worth

"I see. Well. I guess it's no worse than tubgirl."

Cup fortunately still at his lips, Hanna spit out his water directly into it. The zombie patted his back with sympathy.

Father Munoz smiled again, relaxed and patient. "Now, I would be happy to help you more, but, well, with the world we now live in, things have changed. I'm afraid I cannot just hand out charity. My responsibility is to see to these people and get them through the hard times ahead. Even Texas has its lean season, my friends. However, if you can provide us with items of value, we would be more than happy to compensate you."

"Right. What's valuable?" Worth leaned back in his chair, the last bits of his gravy and biscuit dinner still fresh on his tongue.

"Clothing. Shoes. Blankets. Soap. Toilet paper if you can find it. We have food and energy covered, as well as safety. But fabric and leather wears out. We have the tools to clean ourselves and our home, but no products with which to do so. Books, ah, if you could bring us books on anything we would gladly read them. Playing cards. You know," he shook his head, "I even miss board games."

It made sense. When a human is safe, when a human has their needs met, they need something to occupy the time otherwise used for scavenging. They were in a town plagued not with illness but with boredom. "Whatcha need toilet paper fer then?"

"At the risk of becoming too prideful, a man gets tired of using leaves."

"I kin see that. But have ya ever seen a man use poison oak leaves? Thass pretty en'ertainin'."

"Psh, for you, yeah. I couldn't sit for a week. Aaaaaaaaaanyway," Hanna was already getting that look on his face. The one that meant he was going to do something to irritate Worth. "Where would we get these things for you? You guys have cars, and you don't need gas, right? You have to have cleared out everything in the area."

"In the area, yes," was the reply. Father Munoz leaned forward, resting his elbows on the worn green felt covering their small table. "But, you see, it's safe here. We like safety. Out there, well, anything could be out there. I'm not willing to risk lives unnecessarily. We send a team out to the power plant once per week to relieve those who are stationed there. That's the extent of our driving, about fifteen miles every seven days."

A freckled face nodded, thin arms crossed as Hanna went from food mode to planning mode. "Okay, yeah, no, makes sense. Not like towns are all that big or close around here. Lots of abandoned vehicles on the highways, too. Conman was flipping out having to weave through it all. He's one of those lead foots only with less lead and more, man, what's heavier than lead?"

"His ass."

"Dude, church? Besides, have you even actually weighed it? Like actually held it and felt the weight?" His large hands rose, cupping the air before him.

Orange blinked. "Hanna? Perhaps it is my turn to mention we are in a church."

"Huh? Oh. OH! Sorry! Uh," red faced, Hanna grinned sheepishly, "so you guys totally need some mundane daily supplies and we are just the men to find them! If uh...you could maybe tell us the best place to go? I mean, San Antonio is nearish, but the big cities are kinda danger zones so if we can avoid the big ones, I would like that very much."

If the detour from politeness in the earlier topics had offended, Father Munoz did a good job of pretending to have not noticed. "It's true, there isn't much nearby. A blessing and a curse, all at once. The farther east you go, you'll find larger cities with more inhabitants. I'm afraid I don't know how well their people have fared or what states you'll find them in. However, if you were to head west," his hand lightly clutched his cup, the motion of his wrist moving and swirling the water within it, "you may have better luck. Fewer people, areas that evacuated earlier to the larger cities. For lack of a more appropriate term, ghost towns. But, there's a reason why everyone left."

The answer wasn't rocket science. "We'll be drivin' right inta th' desert."

"Yes. I'm afraid so."

"Okay, well...hmm." Behind thick rimmed glasses, blue eyes narrowed in thought. "Mad Max or Dune, guys."

Preternaturally long limbs stretched, shifting Worth up and out of his small, plastic chair. "More of a spice man, m'self."

"Yeaaaaah, I don't think I'd look good in all that black leather, anyway. Decision made and now it's time to sleep. Thanks for the meal, Father, really. Best thing I've eaten in weeks, for seriously serious. I am stoked to get some more before we head out tonight!" White teeth were bared in a happy grin as Hanna hopped up. "We'll see you at dinner tonight, sir. Also? The fact that you're totally cool with our best bud Chester? I think that kinda makes you my favorite holy man right now."

"Ah, well," Father Munoz smiled and rose as well to escort the group up the basement steps. "The church has a very positive view of men who rise from the grave and assist humanity."

Hours later, after sleep and a second, equally filling meal, Hanna, Worth, and the zombie filtered back into the RV. Conrad was there, seated at the table, pouring water onto a plate. The sparrow was hopping about on the plate, peeping away and making a fucking mess of splattering water. The vampire looked up, momentarily startled by the group's entrance, which meant that his eyes widened briefly and then he scowled deeply. "What?"

Worth's thin brows rose and his hands flew up in mock defense. "Oh, nothin', sweetheart. Ya jus' go right ahead an' don't let us bother ya none. I ain't th' sorta man ta judge."

"Oh piss off." Conrad had stopped pouring the water and had started, consciously or unconsciously, scratching the back of the bird's neck with one finger while pointing at Worth with the other. "Birds are clean by nature, unlike unlicensed medical practicioners. Considering you've had your hands all over him, I think he's due for a bath."

"Well if hands all over means it's time fer a bath, mebbe ya oughta hop in th' sink fer a bit."

Conrad's eye twitched. "What...what are you saying? What the _bloody fuck_are you saying?"

"Uhhhh, kaaaaay, well after bathtime for Sir Hopsalot, we-"

"Hopsalot? Th' fuck kinda, are ya playin' fuckin' Mad Libs ta come up with names?"

"Psh, fine." Hanna's arms crossed and he stood with his feet wide, staring up at the doctor. "You come up with a better one."

"Fuckface works fer me. Or Li'l Shit. Or Big Shit, considerin' what it did ta my shirt," he plopped onto the bench beside Conrad to obtain a better angle for glaring at the sparrow," an' don't you think I forgot it, ya Shit."

Hanna leaned against the small kitchenette counter while the zombie busied himself with fetching maps from the front of the camper. "Okay, how about something that doesn't involve swearing? If I find a vet, I am not taking in little dude and saying "please treat my bird "Fuckface, the Big Shit.""

"Eeeh..." His angular face scrunched up, mind working over the myriad of possibilities, quickly crossing most off the list due to the vulgar language involved in the vast majority. "Bird."

"Bird?" Conrad snorted, and Worth could have sworn the bird's echoing chirp was just as condescending. "Really? Bird? You're naming a bird, Bird. Magnificent mastery of the English language, Worth. I truly wouldn't expect more from you. Bravo."

Worth hesitated only a heartbeat before pressing his hands on Conrad's face. "Whoops, how clumsy of me, gettin' my dirty fingers all over ya. Ya need a bath?"

The vampire sputtered and lashed out, one pointed boot stabbing its toe into Worth's lean calf, his hands yanking Worth's arms down so he could better see where to throw a punch. Worth felt a sudden heaviness and wetness on his lap. "Th' fuck?" Ivory knuckles cracked against his jaw and he fell back, blinking at his thigh, then up to Conrad, then over to the table as a dish fell from his leg onto the floor below. The fucking bird was standing on the edge of the table, head tilted.

"Gotta new name," he growled as Conrad pulled back and snickered, "Shishkebob."

"You know, I like the bird. Can we keep him?" He pulled another piece of corn from his pants pocket and the bird hopped over to take the food.

"See? Sir Hopsalot."

"Yeah, see me usin' 'im as a baseball," Worth grumbled while the zombie spread a road map onto the table. Green fingers smoothed folded edges as multiple sets of eyes turned their gaze to the veins of America's highways radiated across the land.

"Hmm...There are some possibilities, but I really want it to be pretty close, but uhhhhhhhh not Mexico. I've dealt with enough chupacabres, thankyouverymuch...Good burritos down there, though." He leaned over the map, arm pressing against the zombie's as they examined the possibilities. "Where should we go, bros? Look for a place that people probably abandoned early, but within a few hours' drive of here."

"Right, because we're so familiar with Texas," Conrad began to ignore them, slowly and gently removing the dripping gauze from the bird. Delicate hands for a man. Tapered, smooth fingers, carefully freeing the bird cupped in his cool hands.

"I mean, we could just throw a dart at it or something, but I don't want to poke holes in this map. It's nice." Hanna rested his elbows on the table, chin in hands, humming a long forgotten tune.

"Here," A knobby finger tapped on the map, "Carlsbad. Caves. Th' fuck'd people be hangin' out in caves fer?"

"Hmm! That might work! Maybe! But uh...if it's just cavetown, will they really have much for us to scavenge?"

"Mebbe. Gift shops, tourist bullshit."

"Yeah, no, I think you're on to something." Hanna and Worth both leaned over the map, looking at the most direct route to Carlsbad when Hanna suddenly shouted. "Holy shit! Bros! Bros are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Worth pointedly wiggled his pinky in his ear. "Dunno. Vision's fine, it's th' hearin' that ain't s'great anymore."

The grin on Hanna's face was borderline manic. Which was to say, only slightly more enthusiastic than normal. "Guys, pack your figurative bags. We are going to motherfucking Roswell, New Mexico."

Roswell wasn't quite what they had been expecting. It was far more of a city than a desert with a few buildings scattered about. But it was, more or less, right smack dab in the middle of tumbleweeds and barren dirt. It was also quiet; incredibly quiet. Even without the heat of the sun, the silence alone was heavy enough to feel like an oppressive blanket, gradually smothering them. Hanna was the most effected, looking around himself as if feeling eyes on the back of his head, brushing invisible spiderwebs from his face even before they had exited the vehicle. "Let's get in and get out, guys. I don't want to hang around here too long."

Conrad pulled the RV to a shuddering, hitching stop in the empty parking lot beside the UFO museum and the four exited with shifty, unsettled gazes. They had learned that no matter how deserted an area appeared to be, there was almost always someone or something still occupying the space. Hanna walked up to the front of the museum and tugged on the door. It was locked. They were all relived. Nothing good ever came from unlocked doors.

With a few quickly scrawled runes, Hanna had the door open and they entered the building. It was odd, something of a large open room with exhibits containing old equipment, a replica of an alien autopsy, and, for some reason, a statue of a horse covered in glitter. It was a bit like wandering through an elementary school's auditorium, looking at a paranoid class's science fair projects. Whatever, they weren't there for aliens or to check out the decoration skills, they wanted the goods.

They found it in the gift shop, dusty, but otherwise left as it had been on the last day the museum had been open. They split up and tore into it, quickly assessing what they could use, what they could trade, and what remained worthless garbage. At least they wouldn't be wanting for tee shirts. They had that shit in droves. They had coffee, too, and tea (green, of course, the wankers), both of which Worth stuffed in a duffel bag he had helped himself to from one of the shelves. While Worth grabbed the caffeinated uppers, Hanna was working in shifts with the zombie, taking armfuls of shirts and hats out to the RV. Quick glances up and around assured the doctor that Conrad was busy rifling through and collecting the soaps.

The store was picked clean of useful goods in less than half an hour, and Worth was left scrounging in their stock room for extras. It was during that time that he found one of the best leftovers of civilization that he could ever hope to come across. He quickly set to leaning against a back wall, inflating his new found prize. Christ, they weren't joking about cigarettes screwing up your lung capacity - it took him forever to get the damn thing finished, and Hanna discovered him just before he had finished. They had locked eyes. Worth had grinned. Hanna had pulled an odd face, remarkably close to long suffering, before a quick "not even asking, dude" before leaving.

That was fine. He didn't need to ask. Worth was more than happy to share this find with the world, and by the world, he really meant Conrad.

He strode out to the parking lot proudly, grin splitting his face ear to ear. The group was discussing a library across the street and how best to search it. He stood. Waited for Conrad to look at him. Waited knowingly for the muscle under the vampire's left eye to twitch.

"...Seriously, Worth?"

"Yeah," he patted the alien blow up doll affectionately, "she'll come in handy somehow."

Now both eyes were taking turns twitching. "Oh...I'm sure."

"Hey, if you're seriously serious about that thing, can we name her Belinda? She looks like a Belinda to me. Totally a Belinda."

Worth's upper lip curled and he defensively held the doll far away from Hanna. "Fuck no. Name yer own blow up doll."

Three sets of eyes slowly looked over to the zombie who looked back. Eventually he remembered to blink. "With everything we are taking, I do not think we have room for two."

"Maybe if like, we only blow one? Er, blow up, up, not blow, uh, you know, keep it uh, not inflated with the blowing?" The red head stumbled over his words, his cheeks straining to match the same brilliant shade as his hair.

"Yeah, let's get one fer Connie. He kin blow it whenever he wants."

"I'm not the one who brought it home," Conrad glared, fang hanging over his lower lip. "Blow it yourself."

"Aww, someone gettin' jealous?" Still grinning, Worth tucked the doll under one arm and slung the other one across Conrad's shoulders. "We kin share, sweetheart. Unless ya prefer ta watch."

In the middle of the UFO Museum parking lot, beside an RV, a zombie, an alien blow up doll, and a former paranormal investigator turned hero for humanity, Conrad froze, face contorting into something Worth couldn't quite read. He waited a few moments, then spoke again. "Ain't hearin' a "no", darlin'."

That managed to snap Conrad from his stupor and he sputtered, shoving his way free from Worth's embrace. "What? I-NO! Dear God, no, okay?"

"So yer sayin' ya want her all ta yerself? No sharin'? Tch, selfish." He looked at the doll before returning his gaze to Conrad. "Or are ya sayin' ya jus' want me all ta yerself?"

Conrad buried his face in his hands, voice strained. "I. Don't. Want. _Either of you_."

"Well now thass a damn lie, Connie. I know ya can't live without me."

The fingers parted enough for Conrad to shoot another death glare between them. "I'm pretty sure I'm not living at all, you dick."

Worth looked thoughtful, as if he was pondering one of life's great mysteries, blue eyes cast upwards to the bright stars spattered across the sky. "So ya can't live with me or without me, then."

Snarling, Conrad lunged and punched Worth in the mouth, sending the taller man stumbling, though Worth did manage to keep a good hold on the doll. Chuckling, he patted his throbbing lower lip with a finger, and then smiled at the blood smeared across the pad. "Aww, lookit. It's dinner time, peaches. C'mon 'n' help me clean up."

Conrad shrieked and turned his back as he began to follow the hastily retreating Hanna and zombie in the direction of the library. "Fucking God, is there no way to make you be quiet?"

"Hmm," Worth stayed put, looking up to the stars again. Conrad stopped and turned slightly, enough to see Worth lick the bit of blood from his finger. "Lemme think about it." He took his time while Conrad stood, arms crossed, one shoe tapping against the concrete. His Adam's apple bobbed once when Worth licked a bead of blood from his lower lip. "Well, I suppose when I'm sleepin'. Normal sleepin' or jus' passed out, don't matter. Quiet then. Or if I jus' got off, or," the speaking had split his lip a bit more and he wiped another bit of blood off, "if I got somethin' in my mouth." He slipped the finger in and closed his lips around it, pulling the digit free with exaggerated slowness.

Conrad was on top of him in a moment, elbows and fists and disgusted, outraged squawks. Worth laughed and traded blows while Hanna and the zombie decided they would make more progress if they left the two where they were, and headed into the library while Conrad and worth burned off steam in the parking lot. The red head gave a quick shout, already half way across the street. "Uhhhhhhh so when you two are done, let me know? 'Cause there are still a lot of places to look for things. Like, you know, food? That thing that humans kinda need?" He was thoroughly ignored and sighed as he walked into the library with his undead life partner.

Despite Hanna's earlier request to hurry things up, it was decided that a town that had clearly been vacated so quickly and early on presented a rare opportunity not to be ignored. Besides, it was only a few hours by pedal to floor on the highway to get back to Sweetwater. They'd gone a few days without food in the past, and, hell, they might hit on some very valuable shit, which would be more than worth an extra day of growling stomachs. Conrad had made it clear he didn't give two shits how long they took in Ufo-berg as long as he had blood in the back. The sparrow wasn't given a vote, though it had chirped a few times and stared out the window as the red head took glow in the dark chalk and scrawled a massive mandala in the parking lot, instructing Conrad to park in the middle of it, going back over the areas slightly scuffed by tire tread to ensure the runework would remain effective.

Though that only held true in dealing with the spiritual. Demons and other creatures were just as terrified of humans as humans were of demons. Which was a little funny, really. A few circles with lines and squares and a human had protection against all manner of creatures. The best the spirits could do was scare people into thinking they were more dangerous than they really were. Most of the time, anyway. To be safe, Hanna always did two things before going to sleep at dawn: draw a protective rune and lock all the doors.

They slept with only the sound of bird wings and the oppressive heat of the day to keep them company.

After the sun set, and both Worth and Hanna greedily drank hot bottles of water, they drove across town to Roswell Regional Hospital, the RV giving shudders and complaints along the way. The hospital looked nearly pristine; no smashed windows or busted doors, only one lone car parked next to a long abandoned ambulance. Worth was already forming a shopping list as he fished out a flashlight from under the kitchenette sink and in the front of the vehicle, Conrad swore.

Then Hanna swore.

The zombie made a noise.

Well fuck.

He pulled himself up and made his way to the front, words not making their way past his lips as he spotted what the rest had already seen.

The small parking lot only held the two vehicles. The larger parking lot held the bodies.

They were wrapped, reminding him of meat from high class butcher shops, wax paper turning lumps of flesh into harmless, sanitary packages. Here it was linen, bed sheets, he reckoned, and they weren't covering all the bodies. Several were in disarray from animals picking them apart. Most sheets were stained with various bodily fluids, long since dried by the desert sun.

"We...can't. We can't go in there. This is just a mass grave."

"Could be good stuff in there," Worth reasoned. He'd seen bodies before. He'd buried enough. He wasn't about to start getting a case of the screamin' Sallys over some poor buggers who's time had come.

"No," Hanna replied, "this isn't right. This is dangerous. They need a proper burial or we need to get out of here."

"Ain't got th' time or th' resources ta dig holes fer 'em, kid. Real sorry, but it jus' ain't gonna happen." He tried to soften his tone. "Think 'bout what might be inside. Think 'bout how many people we kin help with those supplies jus' goin' ta waste."

Hanna turned to look at the doctor, face harder than Worth could ever remember seeing it. "Okay. I am going to give you twenty minutes and Conrad."

"Well, dunno if I should say thanks or be offended that yer only givin' me twenny minutes."

"You are going to go in and get exactly what you need and get the fuck back out here. You two are not going to pick fights with each other. You are going to be back outside before those twenty minutes are up. This is non-negotiable shit and I shouldn't even let you guys have what I'm giving you. I could be signing your death warrants, but," he took a breath, some of the hard ice in his face melting and softening at the edges as he looked at the Batman watch around his slender wrist, "but yeah. We could help a lot of people. Get what will keep. Get what you know you can and will use. You're down to nineteen minutes."

Worth and Conrad looked at each other, grabbed bags, and headed out the RV's side door, hearing a weary sigh from Hanna as they exited. "Horatio, I am going to need your help, bro."

The doctor kicked the sliding door twice before Conrad shoved him out of the way and used his shoulder to break the glass. The two stepped into the hospital, careful to avoid the shards jutting out, hearing the crunch and feeling the slip of glass under foot. "Where to?" The vampire asked.

"Emergency. We only got a few minutes. They'll have the best gen'ral stock."

Flashlight trained ahead of them, they followed the green lines painted on the floor, taking them straight back to a waiting room and a front desk. Worth opened the door and walked past the desk towards the storage room. It was quiet, no creaking, or buzzing, or even scratching. He could see the door to the storage room was hanging wide open. He didn't like it.

"Why was it twenty?"

"Th' fuck?" He pushed a gurney out of the way, listening to it rattle its way down the linoleum hallway. Noise was good. "Th' fuck ya askin' about?" The gurney thudded against the open door and slowly rolled backwards. Nothing made a sound, nothing moved.

"Numbers. Numbers have meaning, fuck, _every fucking thing_that didn't have meaning has meaning now." Conrad's shoulder bumped against Worth's arm. "So why did Hanna say twenty minutes?"

"How should I know?" Something smelled up ahead. Something other than chemicals. "Ya bring th' twins?"

"Yes, and they're not twins they're just hand guns and they don't even match."

"Not all twins're identical, Connie."

"Yes, I am aware, but, ugh, what's that smell?"

"Dunno, but betcha whatever it is is sittin' in that storage room."

"Wonderful. Fucking wonderful." Worth heard snaps opening and the soft slide of metal against leather as Conrad unholstered his pistols. The doctor slowed his steps, walking wide to give Conrad as much light as possible to see what to aim at.

The beam illuminated the stock room and Conrad made a disgusted noise before reholstering his pistols. "I'm not going in there."

"Fine, ya big baby. Stay here 'n' keep an eye out." Worth handed the flashlight to Conrad, who scrambled to hold it and the two guns at once. Stepping over the nurse's body, he quickly began looking through the supplies in the dim, wobbling rays from the flashlight. "Need a little light in here." He didn't need it below himself, though. He'd had a good enough view the first time, he didn't need another look at the squirming masses on the body he kept bumping with his leg.

Behind him, the light was mostly focused inside the room, occasionally drifting off as, he assumed, Conrad looked down the hallway.

"Time check," he muttered, emptying a box of alcohol wipes into the duffel bag.

"Hank ook."

"Th' fuck?" He turned, blinded momentarily by the light.

"Hank. Oook. Hanss foo."

Worth snickered and added large gauge needles and sealed plastic tubing to the bag. Yeah, he definitely needed those. He wasn't sure how long he could reuse those items before he risked infection. Boiling only got you so far. He could use some appropriate bags, too, but he was having trouble locating them. Sodium citrate, dextrose, and phosphate; the same items that prevented coagulation and increased shelf life also were likely half the reason bagged blood tasted so shitty.

He turned and stared at Conrad as best he could with the light glaring in his eyes. "Yannow. I really shouldn't be surprised yer solution ta guns an' a flashlight wasn't holsterin' a pistol, but instead," he tapped the flashlight held in Conrad's mouth. "S'who's th' one who likes havin' things in their mouth, again, sweetheart?"

Conrad held his hands up and pulled back the hammers on his pistols.

Smirking, Worth pulled one hand over, flipping it over to look at the watch. Four minutes to get back out. "Fuck. Need more time." Grumbling, he pulled the flashlight from Conrad's mouth and whirled, searching along the shelves as quickly as possible for things he could use, grabbing and throwing things in as they caught his eye.

"One minute, Worth. Come on!"

"Fuckin'-" He whipped around, nearly stumbling and falling over the dead nurse as he ran out, joining Conrad in the hall, "give a man more'n a one minute warnin'!"

Their foots rang hollow and heavy as they ran down the hall, flashlight bobbing. Worth could feel something in the air, something that was making his skin tingle and his bones ache. There was a smell, too, not like the chemicals used to sterilize the hospital, or the nurse's body being devoured in the store room. He'd smelled it before, acrid and burning his nose and lungs, hanging in the back of his throat.

The RV was sitting at the broken doors and Worth threw his bag in after Conrad dashed inside. Panting, he sat heavily, feeling his hands vibrating with the tremors of adrenaline, mind sharp, details bright. Conrad was climbing into the drivers' seat and out the window Worth could see Hanna, tiny, stupid, incredibly powerful Hanna, holding a hammer to the sky and standing at the edge of the parking lot. There was something on the ground, and, Worth realized, whatever it was, was also trailing its way over to the hospital.

"Conrad. Hanna has asked that you drive to him and then drive away. Very fuckin' fast, were his words."

"Right." He put the RV in neutral and lightly tapped the accelerator, feeling the vehicle rumble complaints through its steel body.

Hanna dropped the hammer and all of his weight, straight down to the asphalt. There was a spark, amber, and then heat, pure and unyielding, searing into the RV, sending Hanna flying backwards and tumbling along the sidewalk. Conrad shifted gears and the RV rocketed forward, turning in a sliding stop. The zombie was out and back with Hanna before Worth could blink. The vampire turned and skidded back out of the parking lot as Worth watched the amber spread from body to body, a domino effect of light and fire.

"Don't look," the red head coughed, face smeared with sweat and ash, "just...don't. Never look back in situations like this."

The doctor turned his back to the flames and instead looked at the white knuckled grip of Conrad's hands on the wheel.

They were about half an hour out of the burning city when the RV stopped.

It wasn't that it was out of gas, or that they needed to take bathroom breaks. It also wasn't quite as simple as just stopping. The vehicle had shuddered, jerked, and a steady stream of smoke began to trail them. After that, it stopped with a chunking, clunking sound, slowly gliding its way to a stop on the highway.

The group sat in stunned silence while the RV's hood dinged in the cool night air. No one was quite sure what to say as Conrad repeatedly turned the key in the ignition and smoke continued to build and spill out from under the hood. Eventually, Conrad turned to the only thing he knew to do and began to swear violently, striking the wheel hard enough to dent it.

"Hey, hey, calm down, don't destroy the camper, we kinda-"

"Kinda what, Hanna? The fucking thing is dead! Dead! Do you think I'm going to somehow hurt its resurrection? Fuck! _Fuck_!" He punched the horn, which emitted a duck like noise. It would have been funny in another situation.

"Look just uh, you've been learning about cars, right? Maybe you can fix it? On the job training?"

"Oh, sure, sure, yes, why don't I just do that? Hmm? I know how to change tires and serpentine belts, so I'm sure this is something simple like that, oh, and I'm sure we have the supplies we need in the back! Oh, Worth! Why don't you get that fucking alien sex toy? I bet it's just perfect in situations like this!" He flung the door opened and exited the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind him.

Hanna grimaced. "He's pissed."

"B'fore I go out an' calm down her highness," Worth closed his eyes, rubbing at them with his fingers, "jus' tell me ya know magic ta fix cars like ya do bird wings."

"Uh..."

"Right. Christ." The doctor stood and headed outside, finding Conrad still hurling swears and kicks at abandoned cars. He watched, lighting a cigarette while Conrad spent himself. "Yannow, yer gonna break a nail if ya keep that up."

Conrad was on top of him in a moment, and Worth wouldn't have minded except that being slammed to the asphalt had knocked his cigarette free. Conrad was seething, snarling in his face, "Fuck. You. In case you haven't noticed, you filthy piece of shit, we are stranded in the fucking desert."

"All th' more reason ta be careful 'bout yer manicure. Ain't a good beauty parlor fer miles."

"Ain't a-_there isn't anything for miles_! Nothing for miles! Even if I, fuck, Godfucking-" he grabbed the front of Worth's shirt and pulled him up to shake him, "even if I run full out, I won't be fast enough to get to any city, and I won't be able to take enough to barter for a ride back here you fucking stupid asshole. We are all going to die out here. Do you fucking understand?"

"See, Connie? Ya really can't live with me or without me." Worth watched Conrad's eyes widen, reaching a new level of rage that caused him momentary paralysis. "So if it's all th' same ta ya," he nodded in the direction of his lost cigarette, "I'd at least like ta get in a final smoke."

"You know what?" Conrad released Worth, standing up and staring with squinted eyes, "you do that. You smoke all you want. We have days, Worth. Wonderful, blissful days where we get to starve to death. Oh it'll be a treat. Like the fucking teacups at Disneyland. Just can't fucking wait."

Grunting, Worth sat up and felt around till he found the cigarette, mostly because it burned his fingers. He brushed gravel off before putting it back to his lips. "Yep. Nice 'n' romantic. Th' honeymoon I always wanted."

The doctor finished his smoke, watching while Conrad split his time equally between abusing the abandoned vehicles on the highway and looking under the hood of the RV. He wasn't getting anywhere. None of them would be getting anywhere. The only thing moving was the Earth, continuing its never ending spiral round and round, like a drunk girl in a revolving door. Worth knew the odds of someone driving along and finding them were slim to none. Odds of that someone being friendly and willing to assist rather than simply slaughter and steal, now you weren't looking for the needle in the haystack, you were looking for the slightly lighter strand of pale straw.

Hanna and dead guy hadn't left the RV. Either they were working on something, or didn't want to risk drawing Conrad's attention. There was a growing desperation to the vampire's movements, a sharp angularity to his cheekbones and jaw that Worth hadn't seen in a long time. God damned fairy was on the verge of losing his humanity. He lurched to his feet and felt Conrad's red eyes upon him immediately. "Gonna head in now. See if th' ginger idiot's figure out what he wants ta do. When yer done sashayin' 'round, feel free ta join me."

Conrad hissed, skin steaming in the moonlight. Worth ignored him and reentered the vehicle.

Dead guy and short stack were rifling through the duffel bag, one face blank, the other frowning. He waited, leaning against the kitchenette, noting the shoebox on the table was empty of their squawking friend. The bird one, not the occasionally batty one. "Where's Fuckface?"

"Okay," the rune mage didn't look up, "I'm annoyed that I know you say that and you mean Sir Hopsalot, but I'm way more irritated by what I'm finding in this bag."

A creak from beside Worth informed him that Conrad had grown tired of throwing a hissy fit without the proper audience. Or, maybe he was just tired. Worth was feeling tired, tired and hungry, and trying not to focus on the very real possibility of what might very well happen to them all in a little over a week. He wondered how much it would take to get Conrad to really snap and sink his teeth into his neck, to drink him dry. Probably not too much. He hadn't fed him in awhile.

"Really, Worth? Really, dude?" His attention shifted back to Hanna, now looking directly at the doctor and holding up a tub of petroleum jelly. "I risked everyone's lives so you could get this?"

"Wot? Time frame. Grabbed what'd be useful."

"You have no idea how much I am really completely considering chucking this at your head right now."

"Ain't gonna get good spin. Gonna be hard ta aim with precision. Weight ain't distributed right."

The zombie spoke from his seat beside the scowling Hanna. "I doubt it would matter from this range."

"Might have a point there." Worth could take the time to explain he had grabbed what he could. He could explain that in a hospital in the desert, sunburn, and burns of any sort, really, would be common, and items to keep wounds moist, such as petroleum jelly, would be common in medical areas. Or, he could see if it was time for Conrad to give in and rip his throat open. "But if ya do, what'll Connie use ta work that stick outta his ass. Or in his ass. Back 'n' forth, really."

"Oh, oh that is motherfucking _it_, you slimy, disgusting-" Conrad's fingers were around his throat and he could feel the pinch in his jugular, cutting off the blood flow to his brain. His head was already feeling heavy and swollen, and he knew he was grinning, that the realm of black out was rushing towards him as the wave of Conrad's furious words were crashing against his ears. Blood chokes were different from air chokes. Constrict the windpipe and there's still a chance to get out. Cut off the blood and the brain goes to sleep in under thirty seconds. But just as it felt like Worth's head would explode, pressure ready to drop him to unconsciousness, then there was something else, and the choke was gone. He coughed automatically, world returning to focus as blood rushed into his head and air into his lungs. It was Hanna, Hanna angry and shouting.

"-doing this! Not now! Worth, just, Jesus, you are my bro and all, but I'm not putting up with you two right now. Quit stirring things up. Go...polish your gun or something."

"More fun when Con-"

"No. Stop it."

"Yes. Stop. Go polish your gun. God knows how much time you spend-"

"Conrad, don't egg him on, don't you even-"

"Oh wouldn't ya jus' love ta know 'bout how much I polish my big gun?"

"Worth-"

"Please. Overcompensating much?"

"Conrad knock it-"

"Feh, I ain't th' one wearin' clown shoes, but if ya want proof, all I gotta do is-"

"ENOUGH! _Go to your room_!"

The two blinked and turned to the red head, who was pointing to the back of the RV. "You heard me. If you're going to act like children I will fucking treat you like children. Go to your room, Worth. Conrad, go to, uh, go to my room or something, Jesus, I don't even know. You two need to get a handle on this thing and you need to do it fast. I am not putting up with this right now."

Snorting, Worth turned towards the bedroom. "Whatever. Was headed back there, anyway."

"I'm sure you were, so you can polish your-"

"I can mute you, you know. I have the runes. I can fucking do it. Go your separate ways and do your pouting or sleeping or gun rubbing and hope a genie pops out or whatever. I don't need quiet to work but I do need peace, so shut up already." Glaring, Hanna plopped back down on the bench, moving maps. The dead guy was staring, sitting on the edge of the bench and Worth had a feeling he was ready to try and add a little muscle behind Hanna's words if need be.

He didn't need to. Worth wanted to get the fuck away from them all for a while, and Conrad had gone back outside with a slam of the side door. Oh it was going to just be a complete party cooped up with the three of them, just baking away all day and shivering all night. He slammed his own door on principle and looked to his rifle, lying solid and serene on top of the rumpled fabric strewn across the lumpy mattress, faithfully waiting for his return.

But apparently something else was awaiting his return. There, upon Betty was that fucking bird, just standing on it like it had forgotten who the fuck it was dealing with. He stared at the bird. The bird stared back and slowly lowered its head, lifting its tail. Somewhere in the distance, with his luck, Worth was convinced tumbleweed was bouncing along the highway. "Don'tcha even fuckin' think about it," he grit out, jaw and fists clenched tightly. "Hanna might be grantin' ya special favors, but he ain't back here, an' I am."

The bird stayed still, continued watching.

"So I'll make ya a deal. Get th' fuck off Betty an' I'll letcha get by. Hell, here," he opened the door he had recently slammed, "fly away ta freedom. Ya shit on that gun an' Ozzy Osbourne won't be th' only guy known fer crimes against poultry."

It watched. Worth watched. Eventually the sparrow lowered its tail and hopped off the gun, making its way in measured bounces across the bed. Once it reached the edge, it gave a final hop and then fluttered, mostly successfully, past Worth and into the common area. The doctor heard Hanna bubbling praise at the sparrow and he slammed the door again.

His hands lit a lamp by the bed and then lifted the rifle onto his lap. He took it apart, piece by piece, wiping and buffing, cleaning and shining. Everyone had their way of relaxing, of shutting off their brain. Hanna played Tetris, or had, anyway. The zombie read. Conrad probably did yoga or something. Worth had used drugs. Without them, the methodical cleaning of his weapons and counting of cigarettes became his meditation, finding his center, grounding him.

He switched off until Conrad returned, hair and clothing mussed, but skin still powder dry. By that time his rifle didn't have a speck of dust anywhere within it and was resting beside the doctor, shuffling his way through his worn box of cigarettes.

"We're going to die."

Worth didn't look up, still shaking his box and pushing cancer sticks around. "Bound ta happen sometime."

"Horribly. We are going to suffer. Long drawn out death wasting away in the desert."

"Now, technically yer not dyin'. Jus' me 'n' Hanna. Not sure ya get ta bitch 'bout this one, darlin'."

Beside him he felt the mattress shift, denting as Conrad sat. "Why are you so calm about this? Are you excited to starve to death?"

"Ain't starvin' ta death," he replied, finally setting the box of cigarettes down to pick at his cracked fingernails instead. "Ain't how it works."

"Really? So everything will be fine. We'll just make a happy home on the highway, eating corn until you and Hanna become jolly old men?"

Worth snorted a slight laugh at that before replying. "Ain't th' food thing. It's water. Yer gonna starve ta death. Dehydration'll get me 'n' Hanna."

"Oh, well in that case, it sounds so much better. Glad we had this talk, Worth." Conrad's arms were crossed, single fang hanging out over his lower lip, empty glare set on the pattern of the blanket beneath him.

"Unless ya fly off inta th' sunset, that is."

"What?" The gaze snapped up, less distant, more alive.

"Ya kin fly off or run off or whatever. Jus' find shelter. Take a few days but you'll find people 'ventually."

"Right. That will go over well. "Oh, hello there, don't mind me, I'm just the undead who feasts on your blood to keep alive. I'll just be here in the corner, if you'd be so kind as to make a deposit in this bowl for me I'd be ever so grate"-ugh, I can't even," he pinched the bridge of his nose, looking disgusted and exhausted, "Who even knows where they've been and that's assuming they'd magically open their veins to me and no. Just, no. I'm staying here. I don't really have any other options, and you know it."

He shrugged, finding it a little difficult to swallow. He must already be in the beginning stages of dehydration. "We'll figure somethin'. Mebbe Hanna'll call in some kinda magical favor or somethin'."

"Yeah. Maybe."

Worth awoke with a parched throat and hollow stomach to a sound he'd never heard before. It took him some time before he realized it was the zombie, and he was yelling. Hanna was yelling, too. He lurched out of bed, easing himself out into the front part of the RV in time to witness a staring match between a red faced Hanna and a man who only blinked when the thought occurred to him. So maybe it wasn't a staring match after all. After glancing at the sparrow, standing and preening on the kitchen counter like it owned the place, Worth rubbed his irritated eyes. "Ya steal his Nancy Drew, kid? Don't mess with a dead man's detective drama."

"He is asking I do something I cannot do."

"Yes you can. You're not bound to me," Hanna rushed ahead with his words to prevent the zombie's objection, "not _magically_. Free will."

"There is no guarantee, Hanna."

"No, but if you don't go, I can guarantee you we're all just gonna die. You don't need sleep. You don't need to get out of the sun. You're the only one of us who can actually go out and look for help."

Worth's thin brows twitched down, shadowing his eyes. "Can't ya call in a favor or somethin'? Yer practically a celeb these days. Doodle up a fancy supernatural phone call or somethin'."

"Can't."

"Ya can. I've seen ya do it."

"No, I mean, I really can't." He looked nearly desperate for a moment, a light misting of sweat across his wide forehead. "I'd be violating the treaty. Even if I could probably find something out there willing to help, and, yeah, I'm sure I could, it would be all this backdoor not good stuff and, trust me, word would get out and it would completely destroy everything we worked so hard to build. I can't do that."

"But ya kin die in th' desert?"

"If I have to, I have to. But that's where Ulysses comes in, right?" He was smiling at the zombie, eyes wide and hopeful, glasses sliding down his nose slightly.

The zombie sighed. Or, at least, Worth thought he sighed. It was a bit like the way an old house shifted during the night. "I do not like this, Hanna."

"But you agree it's the best plan."

"I agree," he said slowly, "that we have few alternatives." He held out his hand and Hanna immediately began drawing on the back of it, marker bumping over the tendons. "I will put a matching one on me, bro. If anything happens, to either of us, the ink will disappear. Aaaaaaaand there we go!"

Resigned, the zombie put on his hat, coat, and gloves. Dry heat wasn't as bad for him as rain, but any elemental exposure was bad for a man moving by magic alone. One hand held a bag, full of items for barter, no doubt. He looked at Hanna once, door open, bright, blinding light turning him into a stark shadow with a blur of orange. "Hanna. If I cannot-"

Azure eyes squinted, the smile remained a false fixture on Hanna's face. "You will be fine, bro. Everything will work out. Seriously serious. Sooner you head out, the sooner you get back, right?"

"Goodbye, Hanna."

"_See you later_, Ulysses."

There was a sudden flap and Worth ducked as the sparrow zipped by his face and out the door, followed shortly by the zombie. "Good fuckin' riddance," he grumbled, even as Hanna's face fell a fraction and the zombie closed the door behind him.

The two men moved to the front of the RV, sitting in the driver and passenger seats, watching the tall, slim figure traveling steadily away from them. "That a load a bullshit ya fed me 'bout not summonin' anyone?"

"No. It's true. I really can't do it, man. If I do, I will owe them a life debt. They will own me. I will have to do what they want, when they want, how they want. The entire balance we've just built will be destroyed." He sighed, licked chapped lips, "But Ulysses, he might be able to get to Sweetwater."

"Uh huh. Maybe. Ya do realize Ulysses was lost at sea fer a few decades, yeah?"

"He was also a master orator, a good friend, and never gave up on his attempts to return to home and his family."

"Takes a man seventeen minutes ta walk a mile. If we're bein' generous, it's gonna take 'im fifty hours ta reach Sweetwater. An' then he's still gotta figure out how ta talk 'em inta comin' out here. They didn't strike me as th' adventurin' sort."

"Yeah," Hanna replied, and Worth could hear the heaviness in his voice as the shimmer of heat on asphalt began to blur the zombie's form. "But, I gotta hope he'll make it. Help us, Obi Wan Kenobi, you're our only hope."

"An' that bloke dies twenny minutes inta th' first film."

"Sticking to Ulysses, then."

"Gotta ration water. Startin' now. How much we got?"

"Uh, honestly?" Hanna grinned sheepishly. "Can we count your whiskey?"

"Sure, if ya wanna speed up the dehydration."

"We still have one and a half bottles."

"...Christ."

"Yeah."

"Rationin' then." Worth's arms crossed, mouth scowling as bit as his brain went through a list of biological issues that would be facing them shortly. "Wear as little as possible. Keep cool any way ya can. Keep outta th' sun, which means our asses are gettin' in th' back where it's darker. There any way ta cover th' front windows?"

"Yeah, I can put up some blankets. Hang them from the top bunk area. That should darken it up."

They moved, worked as lightly as they could, Hanna in his boxers. Worth sifted through the lumps of clothing until he found a pair of shorts and pulled those on instead of his jeans. It felt bizarre, and they kept trying to slide off his lean hips, but it gave better air circulation. He poured out two half mugs full of water and they clinked the ceramic together before drinking. Well, before Hanna drank, anyway. The minute the red head closed his eyes, breathing slowly and slipping into sleep, Worth poured his own portion back into the water bottle and closed the lid tightly.

While Hanna slept, Worth made a quick excursion outside the RV, checking the cars, trying to hotwire the ones that Conrad hadn't dented beyond use in his rage the night before. He found keys in a few, the same ones that still held people. Those didn't work, either, the gasoline having likely all evaporated in the long stretch of summer heat, and, even though he knew it was cooler now that it was autumn, the sweat trickling along his spine insisted that it was still plenty hot enough.

Worth didn't even really know what he was searching for, past a useful vehicle. He just needed space more than anything, and an activity to distract himself, wear himself out so he could sleep or at least stop thinking about the inevitable. Dead guy had a chance, he supposed, so they had a chance, but he'd learned long ago not to put hope into chances. A man had to make his own opportunities, had to just seize life by the throat and shake it till he got what he wanted. Of course, life didn't always take kindly to that and more often than not liked to answer the man with a kick right in the balls.

He sat on the steps of the RV, shade and light wind helping to cool him as it lifted salty water from his skin. It was somewhere in the nineties, he reckoned. A healthy adult without water could survive three to four days in that heat. Depending on Dead Man Walking's speed and bargaining skills, he might actually manage to bring back help before Worth died. Better chance bringing it before the redheaded menace kicked the bucket, at least. Experimentally, he squeezed long fingers tightly around his forearm and pumped, watching the veins in the back of his hand, waiting for them to plump like fruit. They did, sluggishly and he shook his head, releasing his forearm. He was already dehydrated enough that drawing any blood from his body would be an exercise in frustration and futility.

The day passed and gave in to the night, cool, but too cool, and both Worth and Hanna found themselves wrapping up in the clothes they had earlier shed and blankets. Conrad spent hours wasting precious batteries as he shouted and knocked about under the hood of the vehicle. As if somehow by swearing loudly enough he would manage to coax an answer from the dead engine.

They switched off, Conrad sleeping during the day and Worth and Hanna at night. Hanna remarked with suspicion on how well their water was holding out. Worth told him he'd punch him till he shut up. It was a hollow threat and Hanna knew it. What he didn't know was that half of the hollow nature of the threat was that Worth was having trouble focusing on which head was Hanna's real one. The doctor had lied as flat on his back as possible on the eating nook bench, head throbbing and heavy, arm slung over his eyes while Hanna busied himself with checking their supplies.

He must have drifted off at some point because when he opened his eyes the camper was empty. He heard voices, though, not Conrad's, but one definitely had the feel of Hanna. He dragged himself up and pushed aside the curtain to glare out the window. Yep. Hanna was outside. So were two wicker baskets and a tall man with long dark hair, changing colors in the sun like light playing across oil. A very tall and very naked man. Worth blinked a few times. They were talking, the two of them, lost in a deep conversation, Hanna wearing his big boy serious times face. The man looked over at Worth, eyes blinking strangely, no movement of eyelid, but a slide of something sideways across his eye. Oh. Well. He was apparently farther along the road to death by thirst than he'd previously realized.

Worth shoved the window open. "Oi. Th' fuck ya doin' talkin' ta my hallucinations. Once ya start talkin' to 'em they never leave ya alone."

"Huh? Oh, hey, doc. This is-"

"Christ yer already exchangin' names?' His chin was propped up in his hand as he leaned out the small window. "Yer fucked now."

"Hah, no uh," Hanna looked awkward, or, more than normal, anyway. Weirdeyeguy was still staring at Worth, head cocked sideways, nearly twisting upside down. "He's uh, he's offering me a gift. Well, a choice of gifts, but I can only have one, not both."

"Uh huh." Mr. Figment of My Hallucinating Brain was still staring, head now rotating to tilt on the other side. The lens flicked across his eye. "Pressy in th' baskets?"

"Yeah."

"Pick th' one with th' biggest tits."

"Er, uh, I don't think either one has those."

"No tits? Ain't much of a pressy then." And with that, Worth shut the window, pulled the shade and lied back down.

He came to in the dark as the camper jolted forward. He sluggishly groped for his rifle, only to belatedly remember he had fallen asleep out front while leaving his gun in the back. His neck ached from where it had been tilted sideways, nearly using his own shoulder as a shoddy excuse for a pillow. "We're movin," he stated in the dark of the vehicle, working the kinks out of his muscles. "That a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Good! Very good! Very awesomesauce with a cherry and whipped cream and maybe some sprinkles on top."

"Good. Great. Cadaver calvalry come ridin' in ta save th' day?"

"Huh? Oh, Ulysses? Nah. We'll pick him up, though. The safety homing beacon works both ways," Hanna lifted his arm with a rune matching the one he'd drawn on the zombie, face backlit by the glow of the RV's headlights as they bounced along the road, "so when we get closer, I can sort of use it like a compass to locate his whereabouts. Man. always wanted to say that. "Locate his whereabouts.""

So that must mean Conrad was the one driving like a drunken prom date. Worth's head made a loud thumping noise as they hit something and his skull knocked against the window. "Oi, ferget how ta drive, princess?"

"Piss off. I haven't eaten in at least a week. I'm tired and I'm hungry, and you both reek. Actually, you might be worse than Hanna at this point."

"Aww, that mean no mommy daddy adult time when we put th' kids ta bed?"

"It means shut the fuck up and go take a shower, you filthy fucker."

"Sweetheart, ya always know jus' th' right thing ta say."

They rode in silence, or near silence, Conrad occasionally asking Hanna what road to take, and what the last mile marker was. The camper was an older model and the odometer had long since stopped working, necessitating a system of marker counting. Hanna almost always forgot the mile marker, but at least he always held the map upright.

Eventually Worth spoke again. "So if Jolly Green ain't our savior, who is? Connie actually fix this thing?"

"Sorta but not really! You should thank Sir Hopsalot! He reported a good deed and we were rewarded!"

That sounded a little more retarded than he was accustomed to from Hanna, and Worth briefly wondered if he was still hallucinating. "Wot?"

"Some warlock with a thing for birds gave us a new engine." Conrad supplied.

"He's not a warlock, bro he's-"

"Some naked man in the desert working magic."

"Er, sorta? I mean it's way more complicated than that, see, places have their own energy and spirits converge and you get this naturally forming magic, and the magic channels itself into a form, and then when it has a form it-"

Two and two clicked together. "Turns inta a naked bloke in th' desert workin' magic."

"Kinda but-"

The RV slowed, swerving around cars scattered in its path. "Sorry," he didn't sound sorry at all, "but isn't a warlock a male magic user?"

"Well, yeah, if you want to get old school technical labeling about it, but he wasn't really-"

"Right then. Warlock. Some warlock with a pet bird gave us a magical engine and said it's indestructible."

Though no one was looking at him, Worth pointed a finger in accusation. "Fuckin' knew that thing wasn't normal an' no one believed me. Fuck th' lot a ya."

"Sir Hopsalot wasn't his pet, bro."

"Okay, familiar then."

"No, 'cause he's not a...okay, fine, it was a familiar. He was able to observe us through the sparrow and judge our acts accordingly. You know, like those hidden cameras in people's homes? That but more magic and less wires and bad babysitters."

"Uh huh. So he's a _pervy_warlock. Think he'd wanna peep on a girl with a nicer rack than Connie's, though."

"I thought you_ liked_my rack. You said it was cute."

Worth blinked, brows furrowing, leaning forward slightly. "Are ya flirtin' with me, Connie?"

"Oh yes. Certainly. I simply can't reign in my throbbing libido around a man like you." Okay, no, that had definitely been sarcasm. He slumped back on the bench and pushed back the curtain to stare out the side window.

"You know, I'm not even telling you guys. You don't care."

"I care. Warlock was th' dude with th' baskets, yeah?" He didn't wait to hear Hanna's reply. "Ya said ya picked b'tween pressies. I wanna know what yer other option was."

Hanna's voice stumbled, and then took on a far too effervescent quality. "Uh, doesn't matter! I picked this one!"

"There were options?" Conrad was joining in now, too. "He said you can have a new engine or something else?"

"Er...he didn't say engine exactly."

"What did he say then?"

Worth turned his gaze back to the front, looking at the bright outline of Hanna's profile. "He said my kindness to the sparrow should be repaid. He wanted to offer me a gift and to give me my choice of the two. One would allow me to obtain food and drink for my companions."

"An' that was warlock-speak fer "new engine"? Well he sure don't beat 'round th' bush does he?"

"What was the other one?"

Hanna was shifting in his seat, profile disappearing. Worth could only see his shoulder and the side of his upper arm now. "The power of creation."

"Th' fuck's that mean? Sex change?"

"No."

"Well what's it mean?"

He sounded distant and irritated all at once. Worth remembered when he used to sound like that, back in med school, when he could see a quick solution to a problem, but had to follow proper procedure instead. "I could have the power to call upon a storm to rain down water or lightning bolt an animal for dinner. I could grow a forest in the desert if I wanted. Hell, I could design the tastiest animal in the world and have it walk right up to me for dinner."

"He would have made you a god, then."

"Sort of. It would have been for a limited time. Worth knows how this works. Yin and yang, give and take. Life for a life. If I wanted to create, I had to destroy first."

"It's th' fuckin' desert, Hanna. Ain't much 'round here that'd be missed if ya brought a li'l rain an' a few pigs fer dinner."

Hanna's voice was soft. "Yeah, not much around here, bro. Think about what I'd have to sacrifice to get my BLT."

He did think about it, fingers pushing around in his crumpled box of cigarettes. He didn't say anything after that.

"How long would it have lasted?" Conrad asked, squirting fluid on the windshield in a futile effort to wipe assorted bug juices from the glass.

"For as long as I wanted to feed the cauldron. The more I fed it, the more I could do. It was kinda tempting, you know? All that power right there. But it wasn't right. The cost was too high and too dirty. So I asked to feed you guys and he gave me the engine. Connie had to help put it in, though. Dude wasn't exactly mechanically inclined. Oh, and Conman?" His voice was slowly returning to normal, less doom and gloom, more sunshine and everything will be alright. "He said Sir Hopsalot misses you, er, as much as a bird can, anyway. And Ulysses. He was very treelike to him."

"Mmm. He wasn't so bad. For a bird. I prefer cats, though." The wipers stuttered across the windshield. "Dare I ask what he thought of the quack in the back?"

"He wished he'd dumped on his clothes more."

"Ah, well, in that case," Out of the automobile graveyard and back on open road, Conrad shifted to a higher gear, "now I miss him, too."


End file.
